


An Ode to the Weekend

by KtheG



Series: Regaining Humanity [2]
Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: Albert the cat, Cellist Fatin, Dot is a museum curator, F/F, Leah is an author, Multi, Slow Sunday's, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:08:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28543071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KtheG/pseuds/KtheG
Summary: A snapshot on a lazy Sunday
Relationships: Dot Campbell/Fatin Jadmani/Leah Rilke
Series: Regaining Humanity [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085075
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81





	An Ode to the Weekend

**Author's Note:**

> So I was traveling today and had about three uninterrupted hours to write, and this is just one of the things that came about. Let me know what you think!

Leah always loved the weekend. She had ever since she was a child and first experienced the thrill of sleeping in. Of course, as she grew up, she learned there were better things to do like stay out late on Friday’s and Saturday’s partying with her friends. But when she hit high school, those late-night adventures lost their thrill. Everything lost its thrill after Jeff, and it had taken getting stranded on a deserted island with six other girls to realize how much of her life Jeff had consumed. 

Needless to say, after the island, Leah was reconnecting with her childhood love for weekend lie ins. And it was made even better by the presence of her fiancées. Because no longer was her life consumed by one man, it was consumed by two women, who reassured her that she consumed their thoughts as much as they did hers. And that’s what made Sunday’s so special. They were all home in the morning. Fatin doesn’t have rehearsal and Dot doesn’t work weekends, and Leah. Well. Leah’s book is doing well and nobody is pressing for a sequel yet, so she just takes the time to freelance whenever she feels like it. 

So Leah loves Sunday mornings. They’re peaceful and sedate. The only time things get rowdy is in the kitchen if somebody is trying to make breakfast for the others, and that’s usually because Fatin will take over claiming a lack of spices – _let's face it, you two just have white people taste buds –_ and they always end up loving whatever it is she makes. But this Sunday is a little different. 

Fatin had played late last night, and Dot had been working all week on making sure the museum’s newest collection was set to roll out on time looking as fabulous as possible. She’s been working non-stop for months coordinating with museums in Germany and Paris, and since the exhibit opens on Monday, she’s taking her girlfriends through it later in the afternoon as a sneak peek. 

In anticipation, Leah is up early, her excitement at getting to see her fiancée's hard work come to life. It’s not often that Leah gets to see Dot’s work in completion (the most recent installation she had done was in Ohio, and Leah and Fatin had _no interest_ in going to Cincinnati when they knew the exhibit would be coming to them in LA in a few months), and so Leah was understandably excited. 

When she woke up that morning, Dot and Fatin were on either side of her, facing each other with their hands intertwined over her stomach. It would be a feat of acrobatics to escape the bed unnoticed, and that was the goal. Leah knew how tired they were (Fatin hadn’t come to bed until at least three am after winding down from her performance and Dot had been up late running final checks on her installation) so Leah decided to not even make an attempt. 

Leah could see Albert’s head peaking up from his spot at her feet, and the look he gave her nearly screamed murder unless she fed him at _that precise moment_. But Leah really didn’t have a choice. It was either get yelled at by their cat, or incur the wrath of two very sleepy women whom she loved very much. 

Albert won. 

So Leah climbed out of bed as carefully as possible. When she had fully escaped the grasp of her fiancées, she turned to look at them, watching as they gravitated towards each other under the covers. In a rare change of attitude, Dot rolled over and took Leah’s usual position of little spoon. Leah couldn’t help but reach for her phone in order to take a picture. 

After snapping the moment to be remembered forever, she pocketed her phone and scooped up Albert. He was like liquid, trying to scramble out of her hands, but Leah held firm. Over the years that they had had Albert, Leah had learned all his tricks. 

(She had come home from a long day with her editor to find Albert sitting on the kitchen floor. When she had asked her then girlfriends about it, Dot just made some passing comment about how the house was lonely when Leah wasn’t there and Fatin claimed innocence. It would be a few weeks before Fatin broke and told Leah they had found Albert at the shelter in need of a home and thought of Leah. Dot had suggested the idea of a cat or other animal as a help for Leah in her moments of paranoia, a way to keep grounded and remind herself what was real.) 

With food in his bowl, Albert was content for the moment, allowing Leah to put a pot of coffee on. (The amount of coffee that three grown women could go through in a week still shocked Leah, four years after they moved in together.) She perused their bookshelf of cookbooks looking for the one that contained Japanese style pancakes knowing that the savory flavors would please the two women still asleep. 

(After the island, nobody really had much of a sweet tooth. Eating lychees for days on end had made Leah’s mouth practically pucker anytime she did so much as look at something remotely sweet.) 

The batter was relatively easy, just eggs, flour, baking powder, and some milk plus whatever spices she was feeling in the moment. A quick glance at the clock revealed that it was still early by weekend standards, and that Leah would have roughly an hour and a half before anybody else awoke. It would be just her and Albert. With nothing pressing for her work, Leah waited for Albert to finish his breakfast before she took him out to their balcony. The view was more than she was used to, getting to see the shadow of the sun emerge from the mountains behind them. 

She sat, simply watching the world wake up, watched the streets fill with other women her age heading out for brunch with their friends. The sounds of a waking city used to freak them all out, after so long on the island and then in that horrible bunker, they had all grown used to a quieter life, so moving to LA had been a bit of a shock. It was difficult to fall asleep those first few weeks, having to learn how to tune out the sounds of midnight traffic and partiers on their way home. 

But now, Leah couldn’t imagine herself anywhere else. The hustle and bustle helped keep her mind distracted, acting as a form of white noise while she would write in her home study. Fatin had once complained about the sirens of police when she was trying to practice, but it didn’t sound serious to Leah, otherwise Fatin would have made good on her promise to soundproof the room she used to practice at home. 

Dot, surprisingly, was the one who adapted the quickest to the noise. _It reminds me of going out with my dad, before. We moved around a lot when I was a kid, but the noise was always the same._

When the sun is fully up in the sky, probably around ten o’clock, Leah returns to the kitchen and whips up the egg whites to fold into the batter. The sizzle sound of the first pancake hitting the griddle startles Albert, and he runs in from his hidey spot under the coffee table in the living room to investigate. Leah gives a small chuckle, bending down to give him a pat behind the ears, before she pours two more pancakes onto the hot pan. 

It’s not something she’s used to, the quiet moments where it’s just her, Albert, and her mind. Usually, it’s Leah and her mind running four hundred miles an hour, but she had slept well the night before in the arms of the women she loves. And she was going to make sure they knew how much she appreciated them. Starting with breakfast. 

Just as she’s pouring the last of the batter does Leah feel arms wrap around her waist. Fatin. Her slender fingers latch together on Leah’s stomach and she drops a kiss to the top of Leah’s head, whispering in her ear _this smells amazing, thank you love._

Leah just hums in response, mind focused on making sure the last of the pancakes don’t burn. It’s not long after that Dot comes stumbling in, her pajama pants falling off her hips as she slides into a chair. Leah greets her with coffee and a kiss, knowing that Dot is the least welcoming in the morning. She dishes out the pancakes, and she and Fatin make small conversation about how excited they are to see Dot’s newest exhibit while Dot continues her trek into the waking world. 

She gets there eventually, her first comment of the day a small _good morning_ to the both of them followed by slews of _I love you Leah these are amazing, thank you._

Leah can’t help but smile at the easy admission of love. It took them all a long time to get to where they are, and Leah wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. 


End file.
